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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229879">A Bard, a Cat and a Wolf Walk Into A Bar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleatory_fox/pseuds/aleatory_fox'>aleatory_fox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Double Penetration, Episode Remix, If Jaskier had met Lambert first, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Young Aiden, Young Jaskier | Dandelion, Young Lambert (The Witcher), posada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:27:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleatory_fox/pseuds/aleatory_fox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier meets a Witcher in Posada. Then a second arrives. He flirts his young bardling self right into their bed...</p><p>Or: What would've happened if a young, flirtatious Jaskier had met <em>Lambert</em> in Posada rather than Geralt?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>432</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Bard, a Cat and a Wolf Walk Into A Bar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m so glad I could bring you all together like this! Unbelievable.”</p><p>Jaskier stooped down and snagged some of the bread off the floor, thinking nothing of shoving some into his pants for later. It’s as he looks up in search of a drink that he spots a lonely figure sitting in the very corner of the inn. He’s broad, with dark hair slightly receded and an untidy smattering of stubble masquerading as a beard. Nothing too overwhelming on its own, but the shine of amber as the stranger glances up, and the two swords leaning against his thigh—</p><p>With a graceful twist, Jaskier plucked a drink from a passing serving girl and swooped in for the kill. He slid on up to a structural beam and planted his shoulder against it, blue eyes drinking in his meal ticket. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.” </p><p>The Witcher looked up slowly from his drink, his criminally plush lips lilting in a little smirk. “That’s what you’re opening with?” </p><p>Jaskier blinked, nonplussed. Tall—although, Jaskier doesn’t know this for a fact yet but his imagination is happily filling in all the blanks of this man’s backstory and physical characteristics both above and beneath his clothing—dark and roguish seemed to be amused. Well, it wasn’t dismissal. Not that a dismissal would’ve put Jaskier off for a second.</p><p>“Yeah, good, no one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance except,” he slipped onto the bench opposite, fingers circling around the rim of his goblet, “for you. Come on. You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”</p><p>“They don’t exist.” The Witcher leaned back in his chair, foot lifted from the floor, calf slanted across his thigh. </p><p>“What don’t exist?”</p><p>“The creatures in your song,” the Witcher tilted his head, those inquisitive, cunning amber eyes inspecting Jaskier closely. “Not that these assholes would know. They think they can kill a werewolf by stabbing it in the gut with an axe.” </p><p>“You—you can’t kill a werewolf like that?” Jaskier’s eyes lit up, shoulders squaring, fingers itching for his notebook. “How do you kill a werewolf?”</p><p>The Witcher paused; still inspecting, still examining. That smirk hadn’t faded away completely, although it was now accompanied by an arched brow. “What’s your name, kid?” </p><p>“Jaskier,” the bard pumped up, squared his shoulders and made his eighteen-year-old-self seem only marginally more respectable and mature. “And you’re—?”</p><p>“Lambert,” the Witcher replied. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”</p><p>“How could one be frightened of such a handsome visage?” Jaskier said, manically unpacking all of his courting techniques ready for this one. </p><p>“Handsome visage,” Lambert repeated, teeth exposed in what was now genuine amusement. “Oh, please, flirt with me more. You’re making my fucking day.”</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t work out whether he was being genuinely ridiculed but decided that it was better to laugh <em>with</em> someone than allow yourself to be laughed <em>at. </em>He’d had enough rotten food hurled at him for one day. He pulled out some of his very best lines. Lines that the mature, illustrious bard of twenty years’ time would look back on and cringe. “Your eyes, they’re enchanting, like someone has frozen a buttercup inside a crystal and added a flourish of sunlight for warmth.”</p><p>“Mmhm,” Lambert leaned his chin on the heel of his hand and knocked back some more ale. “Go on.” </p><p>The young bard flirted his absolute heart out. The smile, the scars down the side of Lambert’s face, the broadness of his shoulders and his bravery in the face of darkness. Although comparing his neck to a sexy peacock earned several minutes of wheezing laughter. <em>Hm, had to work on that one. Perhaps a different bird?</em> Jaskier could feel the heat rising under his collar almost at the same rate as the Witcher relaxed into his company. He was so engrossed in those quiet chuckles and the big, smug grin beaming his way that he missed the new arrival appear at his shoulder.</p><p>Lambert didn’t and looked up from his drink. “You’re late. I got a better offer.”</p><p>The new arrival moved into Jaskier’s eyeline and then flopped down into the chair nearby. Twin blades, those enchanting eyes, the scar that ran down the left side of his face in a thin, white line. There was no mistaking it. Another Witcher. Jaskier’s heart practically hummed in his chest. Lambert was handsome in a roguish I’d-take-you-home-to-piss-off-my-parents kind of way, but his companion was classically good looking. Like a dashing prince from a fairy tale; dark hair tied back in a tail, sculpted cheek bones and an elegant nose, a proud forehead and tanned, olive skin.</p><p>“Oh, I can see, he’s rather taken with you, isn’t he?” The second Witcher leaned back and gestured to a young server for an ale. “He smells like a virgin in a whorehouse.” </p><p>“Wh—what?” Jaskier went pink to the very tips of his ears. Oh, he’d been daydreaming about it, of course. Those big, rough hands on his hips; the feel of that beard between his thighs as those plump lips laced his cock with decadent, wanting kisses. <em>Oh dear</em>. “Well, it’s hardly my fault if he’s so—.” The words. The words were escaping him.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Jaskier,” Lambert leaned forward. “You’ve been talking my ear off all evening. If you’ve run out of material for me, then Aiden’s plenty good looking. Have at.”</p><p>Aiden. Oh yes. <em>Aiden</em> was very good looking. It was just as effortless to spin up his Oxenfurt-educated vocabulary to lavish praise upon him. Eyes of shining emeralds that capture the verdant green of an enchanted forest; the dazzling glimmer of his smile that would melt even the stony heart of the Emperor of Nilfgaard himself. Soon the Witchers were chuckling again, and as the night drew on, their mirth transformed into something a little more heated. Lambert took his hand and pulled him close. “I think you’ve earned a good time, little bird. Would you be interested?”</p><p>Jaskier glanced between the two—because Aiden was looking expectant—and stuttered out his reply through trembling excitement. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”</p><p>They stumbled upstairs into a room with a narrow bed, low ceiling and an eclectic collection of broken furniture, but Jaskier really wasn’t paying attention to any of it because there were two sets of eager hands all over his body. He wasn’t sure who was touching what; who slipped beneath his doublet and chemise and squeezed the curves of his chest with an appreciative groan; who massaged his ass and thighs, working beneath the complex lace of his breeches with expert precision until a warm palm was smoothing down the length of his cock. His neck, his shoulders, a prickling mess of bites and kisses as armour, belts and clothes fell to the floor haphazardly. </p><p>Their bodies were like twin furnaces, rubbing, pushing, insisting until he spread himself open, coming apart under their attention. His eyes were permanently closed, overwhelmed by the flood of their mouths, their hands, and when two thick fingers circled his entrance he begged for it, slumped against Aiden’s chest with Lambert kneeling between his legs; he parted his thighs and hooked a hand behind Aiden’s neck, hips rolling insistently. This wasn’t his first time, but the two impressive cocks currently sliding intermittently across his body were the biggest he’d ever seen. </p><p>Lambert was staring at him hungrily. What a wreck he must look; body flushed, lips swollen from demanding kisses, hair tousled, prick leaking. He arched when those fingers pressed inside, and Aiden pulled his head to the side to swallow the longing moan, tongue sweeping into his open mouth. Lambert purred. “Such a pretty bardling. We’re going to wreck you.” </p><p>Then those fingers were gone, the brilliant flutter across his prostate fading to a dull, needy ache. Aiden gripped his hips and lifted him as if he weighed nothing, and he was vaguely aware of Lambert reaching between his legs to take Aiden’s cock. The blunt head pressed against his rim—fat, hot—and Jaskier cried out as it pressed into him. Like the iron of a blacksmith’s forge, his insides burned from its intrusion, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. His body clenched as he gasped—“more, please more, oh sweet gods”—and he watched Lambert rise up to stand on the bed.</p><p>His huge prick bobbed before Jaskier’s face, head wet with swells of precome, and Jaskier opened his mouth, <em>demanding.</em> Lambert smirked. “I don’t want to hurt that pretty throat. You tap my leg if it’s too much.” And then it was in. Jaskier’s lips stretched until they were as taut as his rim pulled open around Aiden’s cock. Lambert rolled his hips slowly, a strong hand gripping a handful of Jaskier’s hair, and fucked into his mouth, sinking increasingly deeper with each thrust. Aiden encouraged him to ride with gentle tugs, and soon Jaskier was bobbing up and down on his cock, perfectly angled to make his entire body throb with pleasure.</p><p>Previous conquests had enjoyed one, maybe two sessions, and then fallen asleep, but he learned that night that the legends about Witcher stamina were far from myth. Even when he spilled, his cock spurting hot streaks of come over Lambert’s calves and feet, they kept going. He’d never had overlapping orgasms—were they even possible?—but the cresting pleasure that ripped through him as Aiden continued to pound into him had to count as close.</p><p>Even after they both hit their peak, filling Jaskier with more come than his body could contain—it leaked over his lips and dribbled down his thigh—they gave him only a brief rest before they were on him again. His gaping, puffy hole split open easily for Aiden the second time, who scooped his hands beneath Jaskier’s thighs and pulled them open wide, presenting a wanton display to Lambert who watched Aiden’s cock slowly sink inside. Aiden nuzzled appreciatively into the side of Jaskier’s head when it flopped back on his shoulder. “You’re doing great. Feel real good.”</p><p>Lambert knelt between Jaskier’s leg even as Aiden began to thrust lazily, amber eyes watching Jaskier’s cock flick and twitch weakly against his stomach. “Ever had two dicks at the same time, bardling?”</p><p>Jaskier, barely able to comprehend the meaning of his own existence, blinked deliriously. The offer sank in just as Aiden’s cock slid slowly over his prostate. “Oh, gods, yes. Please. I need—I think I need it. I—.” Lambert cut off his desperate whimpers with a kiss and Jaskier lifted his hands to grip the back of Aiden’s neck as he felt Lambert’s cock press briefly against his taint. He was so open, so wet, that Lambert notched his head into his rim and pushed inside without any more preparation. A hoarse cry broke free from Jaskier’s chest, accompanied by a low groan of bliss from Aiden, overcome by having Lambert’s smooth, velvety cock pressed up against his inside Jaskier’s needy hole. </p><p><em>It was so much. </em>Jaskier sobbed with overwrought pleasure as Lambert began to move, keeping the pace slow at first, allowing Jaskier to feel, to be overwhelmed by, the stretch of his body and the constant, insistent rub against his sweet spot.</p><p>They ravished Jaskier’s body until the first early morning light began to peak above the windowsill. The gentle praise washed over him like a warm tide, bringing him back from desperation each time, and when he was completely spent; when his vision whited out with both their pricks buried deep inside, his skin covered in their spend, his body shivering and wrecked as promised, they finally allowed him to rest. Jaskier watched through hazy eyes as Aiden spread Lambert open, bit and sucked possessive marks into his skin and made his lover moan his name in worship.</p><p>The room fell silent eventually. The heavy scent of sweaty bodies and sex filling Jaskier’s head as he sprawled across the two men beneath him. The young bard learned a valuable lesson that night—</p><p> The easiest way into someone’s bed? <em>You just had to make them laugh.</em></p>
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